


Faster than a freeway

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boyfriends, Derek Feels, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Stiles Has Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:38:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Derek takes Stiles' pain away<br/>One time Stiles does it for him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faster than a freeway

**Author's Note:**

> oppanblainegamstiles won a spot in my last give away and asked for the following prompt :
> 
> 5 times Derek took Stiles' pain away and the 1 time Stiles took Derek's pain away
> 
> How could I resist ?!
> 
> Title from Anarbor's "Take my pain away"

5.

Stiles didn't expect it to be so painful.

When the doctor said "kidney stones", he figured that he would have some trouble peeing for a little while.

But no.

This is much worse.

He feels like he's trying to give birth to a double headed monster through his uretra, and it's pure agony.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans between gritted teeth, doubled over in his hospital bed. His father just left to get himself a coffee and to try to get the nurse to stab him with more pain killers, and Scott is blissfully unable to come.

The last thing Stiles wants is for his best friend to see him wriggling on the bed because of the pain - once is enough in a friendship, thank you very much.

When the door opens, Stiles doesn't even look up and sighs into his pillow. There is only one person on Earth who manages to slam a door without making a sound.

Stiles wishes he could turn away from the door, to turn his back on Derek, but as it is, it hurts to breathe so ... be it.

"Arghmph," he says as greeting and Derek lets the door closing by itself to rush to his side.

"I saw your father," Derek says softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Stiles' eyes. "He told me about the kidney stones."

"Don't worry, Stiles," Stiles groans in a pale imitation of Derek, "it's probably that third plate of fries you ate. Or that root beer float. Don't be such a - urmph," he cuts himself mid-mockery because of a stab of pain.

"Ok, ok, you've made your point," Derek replies gently, sitting on the bed and putting an arm over Stiles' prone form on the bed. "I'll listen to you next time."

"Next time I won't tell you anything," Stiles says with a pout, until he realizes that the pain is not so ... painful.

And that Derek's large hand is covering his back - his loin, as it is, pretty much around the area of his ...

"Wateryoudoin'?" he mumbles, already drowsy with relief.

"Shhh," Derek hums, his palm drawing circles on Stiles' back. "Let me do what I can to make it better."

"But-"

"Stiles."

"Shutting up - you're the best, hmmmm."

"Shhh."

 4.

Stiles wakes up with a scream and Derek is instantly sitting up, even if he's still in that state between dreams and consciousness.

"Stiles?"

Stiles' hands are grasping the sheets and the man himself is rocking back and forth.

Derek can hear the way his heart is beating, fast and irregular, the way Stiles literally reeks of shame and self hatred and pain.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what is going on.

"Stiles." Derek tries to control the quiver of his voice, to sound firm and in control.

"I killed them, I killed them all, this is all my fault, I killed her, I ..."

"Stiles!"

"I killed Allison, I could have killed them all, I could have killed you, oh God."

Stiles' voice turns into an animal whine of pain as he bows his head, closing himself into a ball.

Derek sits up, behind Stiles, and puts his arms and his legs around the younger man. When Stiles is tightened like that, he looks so much smaller than he truly is, and it breaks Derek's heart.

Slowly, to make sure that he's not going to trigger a deeper panic attack, Derek slides his hands down Stiles' arms until his palms are meeting each other on top of Stiles' wrists.

Just as slowly, as slowly as he can, Derek lets his extra abilities take over, pulling the pain that is wrecking Stiles from its source, from deep within.

As he lets it travel through his veins, lets the emotional and residual physical pain dissolve in his own system, Derek nuzzles Stiles' sweaty neck, listening to the way his heart slows down to a more normal and healthy beat.

When Stiles rubs his head back against his cheek, Derek knows that they'll be okay.

3.

Stiles is not particularly proud of himself, but at the same time, he kind of is.

He can see that he has behaved like a reckless idiot, but it was for the good cause.

"Really, Stiles," Derek huffs as he cleans the wound above his eyebrow from the dirt and leaves and other unspeakable things that they won't speak of, "the good cause?"

"Putting that baby bird back in its nest was the right thing to do, Der-ouch!"

"Derouch?" Derek repeats with a smirk as he picks out the piece of wool stuck in the wound. "Is that my new nickname?"

Stiles mutters something that sounds suspiciously like that it would be fitting, but Derek swabs the wound with a piece of gauze covered in alcohol and Stiles has to inhale deeply to keep from whining.

Derek doesn't mean to be mean, but he really got worried. "You could have hurt yourself way more seriously," he says quietly, and Stiles looks up at him through his eyelashes, that traitor. "I was ... I was dead worried."

"I'm sorry," Stiles replies, just as quietly, his fingers wrapped around Derek's wrist before he leans to kiss the middle of Derek's palm.

Derek curls his fingers around Stiles' cheek, and that's how he feels the throbbing of pain in Stiles' temple. Not residual from him tending to the injury with less than gentle attentions, but from the injury itself.

It's not a big deal, but Derek can make a wild guess about the area being a very sensitive one, if only because the amount of blood that covered the side of Stiles' face doesn't match the size of the wound.

The tip of his middle and ring fingers brush against the small baby hair on Stiles' temple, and he swiftly pulls out the pain from his boyfriend's head.

"Next time you want to save a baby bird," he says before stealing a quick kiss, "make sure you're with a responsible adult that will catch you if you fall."

"Hardly har har."

2.

As he hops to the nearest chair, Stiles is muttering - Derek isn't sure if he's insulting the sidewalk, himself or the little old man who made him fall, but one thing is certain, Stiles has a vast vocabulary when it comes to cursing.

When it comes to anything, of course, but particularly cursing.

"There, sit and tell me where it hurts," he says calmly, trying to get Stiles to relax.

Derek slowly and carefully pulls the sock Stiles has kept on - "it's chilly, Der'" - and keeps his heel in the palm of his hand.

Stiles hisses and Derek reaches to pet the back of his leg as he kneels down to look at Stiles' ankle. It is swollen and almost bruising.

Not good - maybe it's more than a sprain, they should ...

Derek takes a deep breath and presses his fingers on the bone of Stiles' ankle.

Stiles bites his lower lip but slams his fist on the tabletop.

"Definitely broken," Derek murmurs and Stiles whimpers.

"I'll - I need a cast?" he asks and Derek can hear him swallowing back his tears.

"Maybe you'll have one of those removable cast?" he replies and Stiles whines. "Like Robocop?"

That makes Stiles snorts, but it's a good sign. "I don't want to be a burden," Stiles mumbles, wincing as Derek softly lets go of his foot.

"You're not," Derek retorts, brushing his fingers on Stiles' calf to take some of his pain - not all of it, or Stiles is going to kill him, but just enough to allow him to move around back to the hospital. "You're never a burden."

Stiles slings one arm around Derek's neck to hop out of the apartment and snorts in amusement this time. "We'll see if you still feel the same when I need your help to shower," he says with a smirk.

"Oh, I definitely won't mind _that_ ," Derek says and Stiles chokes on air.

1.

 "Shitshitfuck fuckity shit."

Derek smells the blood before he hears Stiles' litany of curses, and he's in the kitchen before taking his next breath.

"What's going on?" he asks, worry lacing his voice as he walks to Stiles' side. Stiles is holding his left hand - more precisely, his left ring finger - and his cooking rag is slowly turning red.

Fuckity shit indeed.

"Stiles," he breathes, reaching for his hand and knocking the knife away with his hip.

"It's not a deep cut," Stiles says between gritted teeth, "just a very ... very irrigated area."

"Shit, Stiles," Derek whispers, pulling his boyfriend by the wrist to get him to face him. Stiles keeps looking away, embarrassment and annoyance heavy in his scent. "Hey, it's alright, let me -"

"No, Derek," Stiles protests, pulling his hand away. "I can't let you take my pain away like that all the time. You're not my ... my ... my personal, walking Advil pill!"

Derek snorts and Stiles joins him soon, his hold on the rag loosening. With his free hand, Derek pulls Stiles closer, his fingers splayed on the small of his back. "Want to be my personal -"

"I swear to God, Derek, if you call me your personal brand of heroin, I'll pee and burn each and every one of your books."

"Fine, fine," Derek corrects himself with a laugh huffed against Stiles' ear. "Let me take your pain away."

"Derek ..."

"Not with my werewolf touch," Derek insists, pressing a kiss to Stiles' lobe. "There are more ways to take the pain away."

"Huh?"

"First," Derek says, peppering kisses all over Stiles' neck and collarbones between each word, "we're *kiss* going to *kiss* put *kiss* a bandaid *kiss* on that cut *kiss* and then," Derek looks up into Stiles' eyes, "then I'll ... distract you."

Derek's hand has moved from Stiles' back to his hip, and he is slowly moving his leg between Stiles' to rub against his growing erection.

"Di-distract?"

"Why, from the pain of course."

"Of course."

Stiles should have known that Derek knew more than one way to use his hands to take away his pain.

+1

Most of the time, Derek tries not to think about it.

Most of the time, he masters the art of distraction and diversion, and he manages.

Not to think about his parents when they spend an evening with the Sheriff.

Not to think about his siblings when Scott jumps on Stiles and they roughhouse under Melissa and Allison's vigilant but loving eyes.

Not to think about his past lovers' betrayal when Stiles fights with him.

And sometimes, the smallest thing tips him over.

Like, a whiff of saffron from a restaurant as Derek takes a stroll in town reminds him of his mother's soup recipe and he feels numb.

In a "I _want_ to feel numb so I'm not letting myself feel anything" kind of way.

When Stiles comes home, Derek is curled up in a tight, tight ball of a man, half-wolfed out as he wraps himself in one of Stiles' hoodie.

"Gooooooooooood eve- Derek?"

Derek whines, closing his arms around him a little bit more, impossibly tight, and his head buried in the space between his legs and his chest. He doesn't need to look up to know that Stiles is taking his shoes off in the messiest way possible and dropping his bag and jacket on top of it.

Stiles' scent quickly surrounds him, along with Stiles' arms and legs. He knows that if he were an onlooker, it would look like a koala bear hugging a tree - or a rock - but he can't really afford to let himself take comfort in it.

Not yet.

Stiles knows better than to ask what's wrong, or to tell him generic comforting things.

No, Stiles knows better than most that this kind of ache demands to be lived, and he simply keeps Derek against him, lets him borrow his warmth for a little while.

Lets Derek know that even though he feels like his heart is being trampled over, there is someone willing to take care of it and to nurse it back to health.

Many times, Derek has wondered if Stiles had any magical abilities. But in those situations, when Stiles' presence is enough to make him feel alive again, Derek knows.

Maybe in the strict definition of the word, Stiles is not magical. But he is for him.


End file.
